


Shadows of the Moon

by dustoftheancients



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (mostly literally), Dark, F/M, Gothic Au, Reylo - Freeform, a little ghost story, not all ghost stories are solved, sometimes all you get is a connection with another person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustoftheancients/pseuds/dustoftheancients
Summary: The hallways got darker, the corridors grew longer. Shadows stretched across the walls. The ghosts of Breha Manor grew each night.Rey clutched her necklace. Ben met her gaze.And every night, there was weeping.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28
Collections: To Find Your Kiss: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	Shadows of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [walkingsaladshooter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingsaladshooter/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day.

During the early years at Breha Manor, Rey woke every night to the sound of weeping from the halls.

Her room, stretching far and wide in the yawning shadows of the night, would engulf her as she lay still as she could, her wide eyes trained on the ceiling. The moon shone weakly through her single window, too far and too weak to break through the shadows of the room.

Sometimes the weeping would last for several hours.

Sometimes it lasted all night.

Even on those nights, Rey could only fight against exhaustion for so long. Her wide eyes would blink, slowly at first, and then heavily. Her body would relax despite the haunting sound. And then she would fall asleep, taken by the night into the world of her subconscious.

In her dreams, it was never night.

But in the halls, there was always weeping.

  
  


~

  
  


The cook was the one who told her about the ghost.

“Killed his own wife, he did.” The cook always told her stories in exchange for an extra pair of hands in the kitchen. Rey loved them all, but she listened to this one with wide eyes, half terrified.

“He did?” She choked out. “Why?”

“Who knows. They say his family was cursed, that his line was doomed to madness. The town turned on him after that, ran him straight outta that country.”

“And then what happened?”

The cook gave her the look adults always gave her when they were about to say something scary. “He died in exile somewhere. Left Breha Manor to his daughter.”

It clicked, then, as the cook watched. “You mean, Lady Organa is—”

“Aye,” the cook nodded. “And she took from her mother, she did, blessed be God.” The woman leaned down towards her as if to tell her a secret. “Her boy, though—”

“The dead one? Is he a ghost too?” Rey asked. She had once found a family portrait of Lady Organa’s family. In the portrait, a tall man stood over her shoulder, and a dark-haired baby sat on her knee. She assumed that the baby was dead, as Lady Organa herself claimed to have no children.

“Oh, he ain’t dead. Though he might as well be a specter. He’s got too much of the old Lord in him, if you catch my meaning.”

She did not, but she nodded anyway. All that really mattered was that there was only one ghost of Breha Manor, not two. 

  
  


~

  
  


The cries of the ghost never stopped, but Rey grew used to them. Over the years, she stopped glancing over her shoulder when the floors creaked, stopped shivering when candles mysteriously blew out. At night, the soft sobbing no longer woke her.

Ghosts were just shadows.

Memories at their best, nightmares at their worst. They couldn’t touch her, and they couldn’t hurt her.

The living had enough grief of their own.

  
  


~

  
  


Lady Organa handed her a necklace.

“It was my mother’s,” she said with a devastatingly sad smile. “A family heirloom.”

Rey held the jewelry gingerly in both hands, taking in the beauty of the double strings of pearls, at the pendant in the center. A blue rose was carved into its face.

“Lady Organa, I can’t. This is too—”

But Lady Organa put her hands over Rey’s and closed her hands around the necklace. “It’s yours, Rey. I have no other daughter than you to give it to.”

Tears welled in Rey’s eyes.

Daughter.

Opening her mouth to speak, she could find no words. The tears started to slip from her lashes and Lady Organa’s smile became tender.

“My child,” she reached up and cupped Rey’s cheek in her hand.

And perhaps she was no more than a simple consolation after what happened to her son. To her entire family. Perhaps, if they had been there for comparison, she would fall woefully short. But in that moment Rey did not care; she felt she had a home. She felt loved by a mother.

She clutched the necklace to her chest.

  
  


~

  
  


That night, she carefully wrapped the necklace in a scrap of silk and placed it in her jewelry box. Besides two pairs of tiny pearl earrings, it was all she had.

All she needed.

She thought about that necklace, about dinner with Lady Organa, long after she had tucked herself in bed. The feeling of  _ belonging _ — she could not get herself to fall asleep. She was too happy.

Her eyelids slowly grew heavy in the dark. And by the time she heard it — those distant sobs coming from the hallway — it was a fight to keep them open. She listened to the crying until it started to grow quieter, and then silent. 

Eventually the night won, and she drifted to sleep.

  
  


~

  
  


She was not alone when she opened her eyes.

It was the black of night, but she knew. The darkness in front of her was foreign.

Her heart seized.

The old Lord Skywalker. The memory flashed through her sleep-addled brain, and she froze. Too terrified to move even an inch.

Would he kill her, too? The same way he—

No.

No. Ghosts were memories. Shadows. The darkness, it was only a shadow.

The shadow did not move. Slowly, ever so quietly, she inhaled. Tried not to even blink. Her heart beat in her chest so thunderously she feared the shadow would hear.

“Who are you?”

The words came out deep, a slow baritone that sent a shiver down her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the dark being to leave her.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice was more insistent, looming closer with a sort of confused hostility that both frightened and — in some mad sort of way — sparked irritation within her. She had a half-delirious thought that after all these years, she would have thought the ghosts would have been used to her by now.

Unless—

The shadow grabbed the sheets she clutched around her and tugged so harshly that they slipped from her fingers. He flung them off of her, exposing her nightgown and bare feet. Rey cried out, rolling away from the creature as fast as she could — right off the far side of the bed. A loud thud reverberated as she fell on the hardwood floor.

The dark night outside her window did little to illuminate her surroundings; new moons were always a little more terrifying than other nights.

Perhaps Lord Skywalker could only ever manifest during the darkest nights.

“G-get out of here,” she forced out, trying to make herself sound brave. She scrambled to her feet, and pressed herself against the far wall. “You’re not wanted here.”

The shadow practically snarled. “What did you say—” 

The door to her room flung open to reveal the butler Mr. Daniels in a state of disarray, clutching a burning candle in his hand. “Lady Rey,” he huffed, “what is going on here?”

The light hurt her eyes, but only for a moment.

A man stood in her room, her sheets still clutched in his hand. Not a ghost. A  _ man _ .

Tall, broad, pale as death itself. His dark hair made him look nearly as disheveled as the butler, as if he had just come in from a storm.

Her hand flew to her nightgown, which was starting to slip down over her shoulder. Clutching it for dear life, she tried to steady her breathing. She had been so sure he was—

“Lady—” the butler’s words died on his lips as the tall, dark man turned towards him. His hand started to quake, the candle’s flame quivering.

“Lord Solo,” he breathed.

Rey caught her breath. Lord Solo?

“Mr. Daniels,” the man replied, his tone still somewhat annoyed. As if this — whatever his strange assault on her was supposed to be — was somehow an inconvenience to him. “What is this woman doing in my room?”

“W-why, this is Lady Rey, Mistress’ Organa’s ward.”

“Ward?” He scoffed, tossing the sheets down. “When did this happen?”

“About ten years ago, now.”

The man — Lord Solo — turned to look back at her. She lifted her chin a little, trying to look unafraid of his scrutiny.

“Seems mother really has replaced me,” he said.

She blinked. She could not read his expression or his tone, but she suspected that he resented the idea. Who wouldn’t? There was nothing to say to that, so she said nothing. Instead, she attempted to gather herself as best she could and reached for the robe she had draped over a chair. Wrapping herself in it felt like putting on a layer of armor.

Lord Solo kept his dark eyes on her, a frown tugging at his lips. The flickering flame made his expression seem thunderous.

She did not approach, but she did bow her head a little. He seemed the sort to want that respect. “I’m Rey. This is my room.”

“This is  _ my  _ room.”

“Was,” she bit back. “It’s mine now.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then down at the bed. She tried to keep her breathing steady as she watched him clench and unclench his fists.

Finally, he spoke. “Fine. Continue to stay here, if it means so much to you. It’s just a child’s room.”

Rey exhaled.

With that, Lord Solo swept out of the room, not quite knocking into Mr. Daniels. For his part, he stared at the man’s back as if he was watching a ghost.

And perhaps he truly was.

He made to leave, then turned back towards her. “I’ll let Lady Organa know,” he said. She didn’t ask whether he meant to tell her about Lord Solo’s late-night arrival, or about him assaulting her in her bed.

She nodded and shut the door after him. After a moment’s hesitation, she bolted it shut.

She lay awake for the rest of the night, still in her robe and staring through the darkness at the door.

  
  


~

  
  


The sitting room was so deathly quiet the following morning that Rey nearly didn’t notice Lady Organa sitting to the side of the fireplace.

Her hair was done up as elegantly as usual and she was wearing her favorite pair of emerald earrings. There was not a single flaw to her composure. She held a cup of tea in her hand, seemingly forgotten as she stared out the large windows.

She was alone.

Rey took several hesitant steps into the room, then gave a deeper curtsy than usual.

For a long moment, Lady Organa did not take her eyes off the view outside the window. Rey lingered for a moment, then slowly lowered herself to a couch opposite the one Lady Organa sat in.

“It’s such a dreary morning.” Her words were soft, distant. Rey felt her heart go out to the Lady.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed, turning her own gaze out the window. She wanted to give her whatever small privacy she could.

“I must apologize for my son.”

Rey dropped her gaze to her hands. A part of her had held on to the hope that it had all been some horrible nightmare, or a lie, or —  _ something _ other than the truth.

“Am I in his room?” She tried to keep her tone even, neutral.

A beat. “His old room. From before,” she trailed off with a small sigh.

“I can move into another room.”

“No.” Rey glanced up at Lady Organa’s hard tone. “My son chose to leave this—this house, this family—and he will have to settle himself into one of the guest rooms. His rooms are yours now.”

Rey breathed in, then out.

“Where is he?” She dared ask.

“Skulking about somewhere, I imagine. I will invite him to join us for breakfast, but I won’t get my hopes up.”

For her part, Rey hoped he would not join. Perhaps he would leave without her having to see him again.

Lady Organa set her tea down on a side table and stood. Rey quickly followed suit.

  
  


~

  
  


He did not join them for breakfast.

He did, however, join them for lunch in the garden. Lady Organa never took lunch in the garden, and Rey suspected that she only did so that day in order to coax her son into joining.

Perhaps it was so that he would not feel confined. He seemed to pace endlessly across the lawn, back and forth, as they waited for their food to be brought to them. Like a restless animal.

He turned to look straight at her. Catching her staring.

She snapped her gaze away, but it was too late. She knew he had seen her.

It was much safer to stare at the flowers, or up at the house, so that is what she did until the food arrived and they were all settled. Lady Organa did not smile, but her shoulders relaxed as Lord Solo sank down on the garden chair next to her.

Rey always served the tea, and that day was no exception. Except—

“How do you take your tea?” She muttered.

He turned his dark gaze towards her, but she kept her eyes on his empty cup. Not  _ afraid _ , just —  _ cautious _ .

A beat. Then, “I take it with sugar.”

His answer seemed to surprise his mother. “You do?”

Lord Solo nodded and accepted the cup and saucer when Rey handed it to him. She was careful not to brush his fingers.

Something passed between them, some communication too deep for Rey to understand. She stood on the shore as an ocean of unspoken words passed between them, some conversation she could not know. So she simply served Lady Organa her tea and made her own.

Rey leaned back against the bench, holding her cup and saucer on her lap. The movement seemed to jar Lord Solo. He squared his shoulders and looked away from them, out over the garden.

“Mr. Daniels told me of your assault on Rey’s room last night.”

Rey’s eyes widened at the sudden change of tone. No longer a grieving mother of a lost child and dead husband, Lady Organa instantly transformed into a disciplined lady scolding her child.

But Lord Solo only scoffed.

“How was I supposed to know that my room had been given away to a stranger.”

Rey opened her mouth to retort, but Lady Organa beat her to it. “She is practically a daughter to me, and you’ll do well to remember that.”

His gaze slid over to her then. She arched her brow and tried to appear thoroughly uninterested and unintimidated. “Should I call you sister, then?” He sneered.

“Only if I may call you brother,” she retorted.

“Well,” he leaned forward a little, “then I’ve don’t nothing wrong. Aren’t brothers supposed to terrorize their sisters?”

“And sisters are supposed to remind their bothers when they’re being an ass.”

Lady Organa straightened in Rey’s periphery, but Lord Solo didn’t seem disturbed. He leaned back a little. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Then I suppose you are a very good sister,” he said.

“Thank you.” She let that be the end of it and took a sip of her tea.

The three of them lapsed into silence as they ate and drank their tea, although it wasn't as suffocating a silence as Rey had felt earlier.

But, then—

Something caught her eye near the house. The doorway. Something looking at her. For a moment she thought it was one of the house servants or Mr. Daniels, but when she turned to look — no one. Perhaps one of the trees had cast a shifting shadow that had caught her eye.

Still, she looked on a little while longer. Trying to see, although she did not know what she was looking for.

A shiver crept down her spine like a snake. She still felt eyes watching—

“Rey, are you alright?”

The trees weren’t casting shadows in the doorway.

“Rey?”

The pressure of a hand over hers jolted her attention away from the house. Lady Organa frowned at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Rey, are you alright? You look pale as a ghost.”

Blinking, Rey dared only one glance back at the house. “Yes, I’m alright. I was just lost in thought.”

Accepting her answer easily enough, Lady Organa nodded and dropped her hand. Lord Solo, however, just stared at her. His dark eyes felt like an all-seeing fire on her face.

She met his gaze, squaring her shoulders and taking a sip of her tea. She did not want to back down from whatever challenge was in his eyes. She did not want to look weak.

He did not say anything.

She ate her lunch.

  
  


~

  
  


The weather darkened over the following week, and it stayed dark.

Lord Solo was apparently staying for the season.

He only occasionally joined them for lunch after that first time. He was never at breakfast. But he was always at dinner, and always with the same scowl. He dressed appropriately and said very little. Lady Organa seemed irritated, but said nothing.

Rey wore the necklace Lady Organa gave her every day. She did not have much in the way of glamor or fashion, but she tried to look her best to look respectable enough to wear the jewelry.

Lord Solo stared at the necklace all evening when he first saw it. Later, he stared less, but his glances were just as heavy with meaning.

Was he upset that she had a family heirloom? She wouldn’t put it past him.

She met his gaze with a challenge every time she caught him staring. She almost wanted him to make a fuss, just so she could put him in his place once and for all.

But he said nothing.

He barely spoke more than a handful of words to her at all.

Lady Organa swept across the room, leaving Lord Solo where he was reading by the fire to stand by the piano where Rey was clumsily making her way through a selection of intermediate romantic pieces. She only played for Lady Organa, because she liked having music on the manor.

Glancing up, she fumbled the next chord in the piece. Lord Solo shifted in his seat.

“Rey,” Lady Organa smiled down at her, and Rey paused in her playing. “You’ve not been keeping up with your studies.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I guess not.”

In truth, she had been staying in her room as much as possible. The shadows around Breha manor seemed to be following her a little closer when she roamed. She also did not want to chance a run-in with Lord Solo. She spoke neither of those thoughts.

“Would you continue them, for me? You should focus on languages and piano for now, I think.”

Lady Organa’s suggestion was of course not a suggestion, but an order. Rey nodded solemnly, trying not to look mortified. Trying to look as if she deserved to be wearing the necklace resting on her collarbone.

“Good.” Lady Organa’s smile widened, and she reached out to run her hand over Rey’s hair. “You look very beautiful tonight,” she said.

Then she dropped her hand and moved back to sit by her son, who did not look up from his book.

“Do you not think that Rey looks beautiful tonight?” She asked pointedly, still smiling.

Lord Solo still did not look up, although he seemed to be a statue in the chair. Rey averted her gaze before she could study either of them.

“She looks flushed,” he said after a long moment.

She kept her eyes on her fingers where they rested on the piano keys. She couldn’t remember where she had left off, so she started the piece again.

  
  


~

  
  


The corridors in Breha Manor became darker over the next few weeks. Even when the sun peaked out — and it dearest did — the hallways grew darker. Rey took to carrying a candle with her when she traveled between rooms.

She was afraid to ask anyone else if they had noticed; the new cook did not know about the ghosts as the old cook did. The new cook did not believe in them, and none of the others did, either.

She felt very alone in the halls.

Alone in the house. Sometimes she could not find another soul for hours. Breha Manor had always been somewhat vacant, but never  _ so  _ vacant.

It felt safer in her room, but Lady Organa had asked her to focus on her studies, so she would.

She tried to keep her pace steady on the way to the library, but couldn’t help lift her skirts a little, just in case she had to run.

From what, she did not dwell on.

The library was as grand and as old as one would expect in a manor of that size. The shelves of books stretched endlessly across the room, closing her within the arms of potential knowledge. Two large windows let in the morning light.

It felt safe.

Or — it did until she spotted Lord Solo leaning against one of the windows. He held another book in his hands, but glanced up as soon as she opened the door.

For one heartbeat, two, they simply stared at each other.

Rey gently shut the door behind her. She did not break eye contact with him. He looked more surprised than challenging, but still. Better to show no fear.

“Lady Rey,” he said.

She blinked. Had he called her by her name before?

“Lord Solo.”

“What are you doing here?”

She almost followed her eyes. He always sounded so territorial. “I thought I might read,” she replied wryly.

He snapped his book shut. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

She crossed her arms and moved to where she knew the foreign language books to be. “Well. I come here all the time.”

A beat. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then have you been avoiding me?”

She froze and turned towards him. “Why on earth would I be avoiding you?” Did she sound flustered, or just irritated? She couldn’t tell.

He approached her with purpose, and she had to make a conscious effort not to step back. “Because I exposed you that first night,” he said. He ignored her indignant protest and continued, “and because you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Lord Solo.”

She meant what she said, but she was surprised to see that he seemed to believe her. He gave her a small nod and a quick once-over.

“Ben.”

She frowned. “What?”

“My name is Ben. Lord Solo was my father, I’d prefer it if you called me Ben.”

Something in the air shifted. It felt like a breeze.

“Would it be alright if I called you Rey? Just Rey?” He went on, his tone a bit softer as if he was afraid of someone hearing him.

Her chest fluttered a little at his question. It was an intimate request of him to make.

What was she supposed to say to that?

_ Ben _ .

“Alright, Ben.” She nodded slowly, and was surprised to see his broad shoulders relax. She had not noticed that they had tensed. “But only in private,” she added when she had a moment to think about it. “In public you should still be Lord Solo.”

He smiled down at her. “Fine. It’ll be our little secret.”

That sounded even  _ worse _ .

  
  


~

  
  


She returned to the library the next day, and the next. And every day, Lord Solo — Ben — was there.

Sometimes they talked, sometimes they just read. Rey tried to always read at least a little Latin and French every day. Her French was middling and her Latin was atrocious, but she did not get any better as she found it increasingly hard to concentrate.

She could admit to herself that she enjoyed Ben’s company. That, despite his admittedly morose nature and barely reined in temper, there was good humor and a good heart in him. And the more they spoke, the more glimpses of the good parts she saw.

What parts of her was he discovering, she wondered.

Breha manor turned cold, and the shadows darker. Rey found herself staying in the library with Ben longer and longer, just so she would not have to venture out into the halls.

Something watched her in the halls.

Something dark.

She was sure of it.

And it was not as if she did not enjoy spending more time with Ben. She enjoyed it greatly. She enjoyed it so well that—

“What book have you been reading?”

The question drew her attention out of the book of French she had been reading. Struggling to read, really. Ben looked genuinely curious.

“I’m practicing my French.” She lifted the book to show him the cover.

“Are you any good?” 

“You can see how long it’s taken me to get this far through the book,” she said with a smile. “I’m better at speaking than reading.”

“I’m horrible with foreign languages,” he admitted, and sat down on the couch next to her. Far enough away that her skirts did not touch him, but still closer than usual. “I spent the last four years in Morocco and still my French is awful.”

That caught her attention. It was difficult to imagine him in the baking sun, all scowls and pale skin. She wondered how often he burned. “You lived in Morocco for four years? Where were you before that?”

“Saint Petersburg, for a season or two. I couldn’t stand the cold.”

It all seemed so adventurous. She loved the grounds of Breha Manor nearly as much as she loved Lady Organa, but a part of her yearned to have stories like that. To have had adventures and to have lived life in the markets of Morocco and the parlors of Saint Petersburg. “And where were you before that?”

“America, for a few years.”

“And before that?”

His expression shifted, shuttered, and she knew what he was going to say before he did. “Before that I was here.”

Silence stretched between them. He looked down at his boots and she looked down at her book. She wanted to ask him more. So badly. But, this camaraderie they had was so new, too fragile to poke and prod about a past that obviously upset him and his mother both.

But then he spoke.

“Growing up, this house always seemed to be endless to me,” he said. “I used to run around for hours and never see the same person twice.”

His words seemed to be permission — or, at least, she hoped they were. She wanted them to be.

So she asked, “Why did you leave?”

He looked at her, and in the daytime light his eyes seemed amber. She had not noticed that before.

“I left because my family is haunted.”

  
  


~

  
  


They started to spend more time together outside of the library. He started to seek her out after breakfast, and they would walk around the gardens when it was not raining. When it did rain, they simply walked the halls of Breha Manor.

Rey did not particularly like walking the halls — there was something following her wherever she went, she knew that now.

_ Someone _ .

It was alright with Ben with her. His typical frown comforted her, a little. Somehow he made the shadows following her just a little farther away. Perhaps she was imagining it.

Or perhaps it was the manor, sensing who was an outside and who truly belonged in its halls.

As they turned a corner, she chanced a glance behind her. The shadows at the end of the hall moved. Someone stepped forward, and it wasn’t a maid or the cook or Mr. Daniels.

It was a man.

Her gasp cut through the air. Ben whipped around and grabbed her arm, giving her a once over. “Rey, what’s the matter?” He demanded.

Rey blinked, or maybe she moved. The man disappeared as if he had never been there. Ben shook her again, called her name again. After a long, long while, she tore her wide-eyed gaze from the hall.

Blinking up at him, she shook her head. She had forgotten how big he was, how intimidating, but she was not afraid of him. How could she have confused him for a ghost, in the beginning. Not when she had just seen—

“I’m fine,” she managed.

“You're deathly pale. What did you see?” She watched as he looked for himself, but it was obvious he did not see anything. The ghost was gone, anyway.

She had not heard the weeping ghost in so long. How she yearned for that to be the only ghost at Breha Manor.

“Ben,” she gripped his sleeves to turn his attention back to her. He had not let her out of his arms, and she did not push herself back. “Do you—”

He waited for her to go on.

After another moment, he asked, “Do I what?”

She swallowed. Steeled herself.

“Did Lord Skywalker really kill his family?”

Ben tightened his grip on her, just a little. A scowl pulled at his face and she knew that he did not like the question But then he nodded. “Yes, he did.”

She knew it already, but the answer terrified her. She felt sick.

“Who told you about that?” The edge in his voice was not directed at her, but she still flinched. She could not help but glance once more down the hall, clutching Lady Organa’s necklace.

Empty, of course.

“I saw his portrait.”

  
  


~

  
  


The sun was overtaken by the night, and the moon by the clouds. The darkness that enveloped Rey’s room felt thick, pressing in around her as she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

She had no wish to hear any weeping in the halls. No wish to hear or see anything else that lingered in the halls of Breha Manor.

The night was silent and the weeping would not start for hours. Nothing stirred. Even when Rey fell asleep, she did not toss or turn. She lay still, like a corpse, with the darkness continuing to press in around her.

She slept until she didn’t. It was still dark, still silent and unmoving around her.

But something opened her eyes.

A weight at the end of the bed.

Slowly, as if the simple rustle of eyelashes would disturb the silence, she opened her eyes to peer into the dark. She could barely even make out the shapes of her room, but she knew what did not belong.

At the end of her bed, a large figure sat. She could just barely see the outline of their shoulders. Broad. Tall.

“Ben?” She whispered into the darkness.

It sounded like shattering glass.

The figure moved, seemed to straighten a little. Outside, the moon began to peak out from behind the rolling clouds.

It was a man at the end of her bed. His hair shone blue in the moonlight.

It was not Ben.

It was the portrait—

Rey’s heart froze in her chest. A gasp tore from her throat. She tried to scramble out of bed, out of the room, away from the ghost of Lord Skywalker.

But she could barely move. She could not get out of bed.

Frantically, she reached over the side of the bed and tried to pull herself out of bed. The ghost stood. He seemed not to take a single step, gliding through the air like some horrible, horrible nightmare. Darkness shrouded him once more as he moved away from the window.

How desperately Rey wished for the weeping ghost to come back.

“Get out,” she shouted, hoping against hope that her words had power. “You’re not welcome here.”

Lord Skywalker leaned over the bed, over her—

Rey managed to pull her legs up and push herself half-off the bed. Lord Skywalker followed, clawing at her. She flung herself the rest of the way off the bed, collapsing with a grunt and a shud.

The ghost reached for her, his fingers catching on the collar of her night gown. His nails scratched against her collar bone.

She kicked at him then tried to roll, but the corner of her dress was still stuck in between the sheets. A cry of frustration and fear tore from her throat. He was on her before she could try to extract herself.

He tore at the skin on her throat, scratching and scratching. Vaguely, she realized that he was soaking wet with some substance that looked black as oil. The strong smell of iron filled her nostrils; she knew that smell. Her stomach churned. She cried out in pain.

Twisting around, she managed to elbow him somewhere in the chest; she did not pay too close attention as to where. He howled and pulled back, his fingers leaving her neck. She did not waste the opportunity.

Frantically grabbing at one of the bedside tables, she tried to pull herself to her feet as quickly as she could manage.

It was not quick enough.

Lord Skywalker clawed at her thighs, at her knees. She cried out as he pulled her back down to the ground, her arms sweeping everything off of the bedside table. She fell in a crash along with a book and her jewelry box.

The box clattered to the ground, spilling its meager contents. Lady Organa’s necklace skittered across the floor in front of them. It glittered even in the dark.

Lord Skywalker, his hands once more clawing at her neck, froze.

Panting, Rey kicked herself out from under him, but he was already climbing off of her. Lunging for the necklace. 

As soon as his bloody fingers touched it, he disappeared.

Gone, as if he had never been there. Except for the bloody scratches down Rey’s throat. Heaving a sigh, she let herself lean back against the side of the bed.

She heard noises down the hall, but they barely registered. Then her door burst open.

Ben filled the doorway, his dark hair wild and unstyled. He looked thunderous.

The color drained from his face as he took in the scene. He went to her in two quick strides, crouching beside her. She barely felt him put his arm around her, or brush hair away from her neck. “Rey, what happened?” He demanded. “Who did this to you?”

Rey took a moment to take in his expression.

Tears blurred her vision. “Ben,” she whispered, and clung to him. He wrapped his arms so tightly around her it almost hurt.

“Ben,” she said again.

  
  


~

  
  


The sun peeked over an open sky. The horses were ready and the carriage packed. Everyone was bustling, busy, smiling through tears.

Rey most of all.

Lady Organa stood a little off to the side, close enough to oversee the packing. She looked far away, even when Mr. Daniels said something to her and she nodded.

“She’ll be fine.”

Rey glanced over her shoulder. Ben already had his coat and gloves on. He was smiling, too, which spoke of his eagerness to leave. His eagerness to leave with her. He reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. She squeezed back.

“I know,” she shook her head. “I know. It’s just—hard to remember. She’s given so much to me.”

“She’s happy for us.”

Her smile grew into a grin. “Happier for you. I don’t think she had faith that you would do as well as me.”

Ben’s face grew very serious. “Oh, she had no hope for me.”

“Good thing I saved you.”

The light dimmed in his eyes, then. He lifted his other hand and brushed his fingers over the collar of her dress, over the thin scars of her neck. His hair rustled as a warm breeze blew by.

She squeezed his hand again. “Summer’s going to be here before we know it.”

He pulled himself out of his thoughts, although it took a moment. Dropping her hand, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And we’ll still be here, at this rate. Go say goodbye to mother.”

When Rey turned, she met Lady Organa’s gaze. The Lady watched her approach with the same dignity she always carried with her, but her posture was a little too rigid. Her smile a little too small.

“I’m so happy for you.” She took both of Rey’s hands in her own. “I’m happy for you both. It’s good to see him smile again.”

Tears stung Rey’s eyes, and the back of her throat. “Am I abandoning you? Will you be alright here on your own?”

Lady Organa scoffed, which Rey had never heard her do before. “Oh please. It’s a mother’s greatest joy to watch her children go to make their way in the world. And besides, I’m not alone. I have Mr. Daniels with me.”

Rey let herself smile a little at that. But then the smile died. “And the house—”

“Rey, I’ve lived in this house for all of my life. I was born here, I will die here. This is my home.”

For a long moment, Rey searched Lady Organa’s gaze, trying to find some hint of — abandonment, fear, resentment. Anything. But she saw nothing. Instead, Lady Organa just smiled.

“Go. Be happy, Rey. Make each other happy.”

A tear escaped, then another. Rey nodded.

Lady Organa blinked a few times and pulled her into a fierce hug. Then she let go and stepped back, letting her arms fall by her sides. “Knowing my son and his scowl, you’re running late. Better get going.”

So Rey did. She returned to Ben’s side and held his hand. He helped her into the carriage and then climbed in himself.

“Ready to go?” He asked, already shutting the carriage door behind him. “Morocco won’t wait forever.”

She smiled, and squinted at the sun.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my little ghost story.


End file.
